Alpine Odyssey
Photos by Steve Sunday Photography
The Marceline yurt provides a welcomed and well-stocked refuge at the end of the trail.
From the cozy warmth of a sturdy yurt two and half miles above sea level in the Colorado High Country, at night in the dead of winter, there’s just something about the pitter patter of gale-force, wind-driven snowflakes bouncing off the fabric walls outside that can put you right to sleep.
Your overwhelming fatigue from climbing more than five miles on backcountry skis or snowshoes to get here might help, too.
Or, despite the exhaustion, perhaps you can’t sleep at all, pondering all the untracked, bottomless, cold, dry powder piling up right outside the door.
While your companions saw logs in their sleep, you pass the wee hours stoking the fire between long gazes through the clear dome skylight window above as the Milky Way slowly makes its way across an absolutely clear, dark sky.
You’re already imagining tomorrow’s forays up and over a nearby ridge and down into Gold Basin, or over yonder to the enormous face of Empire Hill.
Welcome to Leadville Backcountry yurts, home to the Emma and Marceline yurts at 12,000 feet, high up in the Mosquito Range, east of Leadville, not even an hour’s drive — but a world away — from the relatively luxurious, expensive, lift-served ski resorts of Eagle and Summit counties.
A decade ago, a warm place to stay in this type of environment was just the gleam in the eye of Harold Tuxhorn, a local mining electrician, hunter and backcountry enthusiast who decided to create a resort of sorts for people just like him, hardy souls seeking an epic experience at a reasonable price.
“There’s not a lot of us, but there’s getting to be more and more of us,” Harold says in the slow, thoughtful, scratchy drawl of a man who’s spent a lifetime in the high backcountry
“It’s amazing to me how many people there are in the world who’ll pay good money to do this.
We’ve had people from all over the world. They search ‘yurts in Colorado’ or whatever on Google and give me a call.”
To Harold, “good money” apparently is $105 per weekend night in winter — not per person, but per yurt, firewood included.
A “Bowl” of your own
Here in Colorado, where lift-served skiing is a passion, pastime and preoccupation for many of us, visionaries like Pete Seibert and Earl Eaton, the celebrated founders of Vail, are immortalized.
For example, consider Pete’s Bowl and Earl’s Bowl, back in Vail’s Blue Sky Basin, served by like-named high-speed chairlifts.
By contrast, while we never will see it on a map or as part of a corporate marketing campaign, this heavenly place Harold chose to build his 
backcountry resort always will be “Harold’s Bowl” to me. To understand, all you have to do is get here, and ski here.
And that’s the point. Getting here in winter is part of the experience, one that’s a whole lot different than checking into a slopeside hotel or condo, or carrying skis a few blocks to a gondola or chairlift for easy transportation to the top of the mountain for repeated, joyous, relatively effortless turns on slopes groomed to perfection by multi-million-dollar teams of snowcats.
No, this is different. First, you’ve got to get to Leadville, which in winter may require a perilous drive over Tennessee Pass or Fremont Pass in a raging blizzard. From there, it’s another couple miles more up into the historic town’s abandoned mining district to a trailhead near Black Cloud Mine.
Once you’ve strapped on backcountry skis or snowshoes, the first physical challenge is a relatively gentle, mile-and-a-half slog on an old mining road to the top of Long and Derry Hill and a brief, rolling descent to Empire Gulch.
From there, it’s an unrelenting, sometimes ridiculously steep jeep trail through alpine meadows, pine forests and aspen groves and, ultimately, the wide-open, treeless landscape above Empire Reservoir, at 11,750 feet.
Chances are, if you come mid-winter, it’ll be snowing heavily, which makes breaking trail through fresh powder a whole lotta work.
Don’t worry. Harold has maps. If you lose your way, though, just look for his blue markers on trees every few hundred yards or so.
“You gotta make it.”
Just in case, don’t forget to pack about 40 pounds of gear, including water for the day, food for the trips in and out and during your stay, appropriate clothing, emergency survival gear and a sleeping bag good for temperatures down to minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit.
“Yeah, this is the earn-your-turns group. But you gotta make it; if you don’t, you could die out here,” says Harold, assuring me he’s broken trail by himself all the way to his fledgling “ski resort” on many occasions.
“The vast majority who come here are from Colorado, and they usually know what they’re doing; but we do get people from other places that get in over their heads.”
I feel lucky, indeed, to have Harold along as guide and host. He personally takes care of the yurts — making the trip up weekly, or so — but he doesn’t typically accompany his guests.
For this trip, besides me, he’s invited a small entourage of experienced backcountry enthusiasts, most of whom have been to the yurts before: Jim Sloan, a retired mining industry administrator from Kremmling; Sonia Webb of Eagle, a self-proclaimed “domestic engineer” who also serves as “social director” for the Gore Range group of the Colorado Mountain Club and is a partner in Leadville Backcountry yurts; Heather Glyde, an athletic former Pennsylvanian who owns and manages Sawatch Backcountry, an outfitter in Leadville; and Leadville-based wilderness photographer Steve Sunday, whose mission is to help me document the excursion.
“Sonia and I help Harold out up here in the summer with maintenance and stuff so we can have this nice trip in the winter,” says Jim, a veritable aerobic machine. “If you like backcountry skiing, it’s heaven. You just have to get there.”
“That’s the crux. It’s pretty slow going, but once you’re there, it’s great,” adds Sonia, who’s slower but steady on snowshoes and knows the trail well.
“You’ll be exhausted when you get there, but then you rest up a little and you can enjoy all the powder the next day. 
And the views are amazing.”
The trip up is exhausting, indeed, especially the last mile and half above 11,000 feet, at which every stride forward becomes a monumental effort. Near the end, after five or six hours of hard work — much of it stop-and-go, to rest and grab some extra breaths — the yurts come into view from the lower reaches of Harold’s Bowl.
The last few hundred yards, approaching 12,000 feet, are deceptively steep and seem truly endless with lungs crying for oxygen, the anticipation of arrival swirling in a dizzy, pounding head.
Once you’re there, with Harold’s help, your steaming boots are off, the woodstove is cranking heat and melting snow for water and it’s time to sit back, relax and enjoy just being there.
Home sweet home
Leadville Backcountry has been in business for about five years. It’s been nearly a decade ago, though, since Harold first imagined it.
“I skied in here and looked around, called some of the land owners, including the guy who’d listed this property, an old mining claim of seven and half acres,” says Harold. “It took about three years to get the land, then another year to get through
Lake County’s planning and zoning process. You wouldn’t believe how many people were against us. A lot of people didn’t want us up here. It took a long time.”
Named after the mother of one of Harold’s two partners (Ann Stevens and Sonia Webb) and Harold’s grandmother, respectively, the Emma and Marceline yurts themselves are quite cozy.
Manufactured by an Oregon company as a modern adaptation of the ancient, portable shelter used for centuries by Central Asian nomads, they are dome-shaped to handle high winds and very strong, with ingenious wooden frames and heavy floors mounted on massive pylons sunk deep into the bedrock.
They’re warm, with thick insulation lining the fabric walls, a cast iron, wood-burning stove for heat and cooking and plenty of cut firewood on hand.
Plus they’re comfortable, each with real mattresses on real beds for as many as five adults.
As you would expect, dining at Marceline and Emma is what you make it. While there is no electricity or running water, Harold equips both yurts with propane lanterns, candles, a wide variety of pots, pans, dishes and other necessities. Many other items — a random assortment of condiments, cooking oil, salt and pepper, instant coffee and such — are on offer, too, left behind by previous guests.
“It’s amazing what people choose to leave behind when it’s time to go back down,” says Harold.
With plans to eat well, our entourage teamed up to carry ingredients for two incredible dinners.
One night it was tortellini with a creamy pesto sauce by Heather; next it was meat loaf and mashed potatoes — smothered in gravy, of course — with green beans, a la Sonia, who’s reputation as a great camp cook remains alive and well.
“Not exactly roughing it,” I remember saying as a toast, thankful indeed not to be dining on trail mix, energy bars and ramen noodles.
Purely ski-in, ski-out
If you’re like most of the people who make the trip to Harold’s Bowl in winter, it’s the backcountry skiing itself that lured you, and the yurts are, in the purest sense of that overused marketing phrase, “ski-in, ski-out.”
From their sheltered location just above tree line on a high ridge separating two enormous High Country drainages, options for making joyous turns through virgin, untracked powder are endless; and at that altitude, the snow itself is as dependably perfect as one could ever hope for.
Most of the terrain in and around Harold’s Bowl is steep enough for great skiing, Harold says, but not steep enough to pose serious avalanche danger.
“It’s the whole package that makes it work here,” explains Heather, who’s been all over the West on backcountry trips. “It’s perfect.
You can ski out and come back to the yurt several times in one day. You’ve got Empire Hill right here, Gold Basin over there, a forest of spruce and aspen below.
And you don’t have to hurry back out to get fresh tracks again, ‘cuz there’s nobody up here to track it all up.
“Of course, all the climbing is just part of the deal,” she adds.
Mind-blowing panorama
When you’re not outside playing in Harold’s Bowl, or inside minding the myriad of other things involved with living out of a backpack, you’ll find yourself, mouth agape, admiring the sweeping, 270-degree panorama eastward from Emma’s or Marceline’s small deck.
No matter the time of day or night, it’s an ever-changing spectacle, sweeping right to left from the ridge of Empire Hill to the 13,409-foot Finnback Knob and on to the flanks of Peerless Mountain, which forms the high rim of Empire Amphitheater, a spectacular array of towering cliffs topped by the 13,748-foot Mt. Sheridan.
Continuing northward, there’s a close-up glimpse of the summit of 14,036-foot Mt. Sherman, the highest point in the Mosquito Range; Gemini Peak, dramatic at 13,951 feet; and the distant, snowy peaks of Deer Mountain and the lofty mounts of Evans, Tweto and Arkansas.
The mind-blowing panorama is complete from a relatively small, rocky knoll on Empire Ridge a short hike away, which protects the compound from fierce westerly winds blowing up from the Arkansas River Valley far below.
From this lofty perch, one can gaze upon the town of Leadville, Turquoise Lake and Twin Lakes and the long line of 14’ers comprising the Sawatch Range, from Mount of the Holy Cross to Massive and Elbert and many of the Collegiate Peaks.
From this very special spot — where it’s possible to make a cell phone call, by the way — it’s easy, too, to trace nearly the entire route you followed to this special place, as well as visualize your journey back.
Back to the other world
As you can imagine, the journey down and out from Harold’s Bowl is not nearly as strenuous as the one up and in.
That tortuous final mile-and-a-half up to the yurts, for example, takes less than 20 minutes on skis the other way, mostly snowplowing the jeep road with occasional forays into the ample deep powder on either side.
The climb up and over Long and Derry Hill seems like nothing with a backpack that’s now much lighter, and before you know it — less than 
three hours after departing Marceline and Emma — you’re at the trailhead, sharing hugs and handshakes and packing into the car for the drive back home.
“Yeah, back to the other world,” says Harold, admitting his backcountry ski resort may not be for everyone.
“This is skiing like our ancestors did many years ago, long before there were chairlifts, and you either love it or you hate it.
“It’s a totally different group of people that do this stuff,” he adds. “Most of ‘em come for the powder that just never ends.”
I know I’ll be back to Harold’s Bowl someday soon. Perhaps next time it’ll be in summertime.
IF YOU GO:
Leadville Backcountry LLC
719-486-0126
leadvillebackcountry@yahoo.com
www.leadvillebackcountry.com
Winter rates:
November through April
• $87/night plus tax on weeknights
(Monday through Thursday)
• $105/night plus tax on weekends
(Friday through Sunday)
Summer rates:
May through October
• $55/night plus tax on weeknights
(Monday through Thursday)
• $65/night plus tax on weekends
(Friday through Sunday)
Stephen Lloyd Wood, a freelance writer and media consultant, is a regular contributor to Vail-Beaver Creek Magazine. His work also has appeared in other regional and national publications, such as VeloNews, the Albuquerque Journal and the Rocky Mountain News.
